


The Randy Dowager (Cullen Rutherford X Reader)

by Nemuu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fanfiction, Romance, Sweet Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemuu/pseuds/Nemuu
Summary: He craned his head, squinting, expecting the hurried scrawl of some urgent summarized report and read the title out loud. "The Randy Dowager... Demons of Desire...? What in the Maker's name --"Cullen had never become a Templar for something like this.





	The Randy Dowager (Cullen Rutherford X Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> A Dragon Age: Inquisition fic I've had sitting around for years now. I never posted it because I didn't finish it, but I really hope to motivate myself to get the rest done by posting this first part. Cullen is such a sweet little potato boy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

**Cullen X FemElfMage!Reader**

**WARNING: SUGGESTIVE THEMES.**

The door opened with a bang, one towering pile of paper sliding off the desk before he could stop it and becoming a haphazard flurry on the floor. A muttered curse and exasperated sigh escaped the man's lips, a mental note to re-sort the papers later subconsciously made in the back of his mind.

He hadn't been expecting visitors. Not in this rain and certainly not at this time of night. He barely had time to sleep let alone rearrange papers that had been previously sorted. If one more pile tipped over --

Cullen's eyes narrowed as he dismissed the thought before it could finish, remembering his duty as commander and readying himself to deal with whatever grim news was coming his way for Maker knew what time that week. Usually the scouts would wait until morning to address a matter. If it was indeed so urgent... "What is it, soldier?" he breathed out as he brushed his hair back with a frustrated motion, settling himself into what had become the routine of receiving reports.

He expected more papers to be shoved in his face, as had been done for the past week, a testament to the Inquisition's rising power in the form of nobles scrambling to bask in the Inquisition's new-found power and have them resolve their petty arguments for them -- which quite frankly, he had had enough of. He would gladly hand those sorts of tasks to the Inquisition's ambassador, who would no doubt handle them with more finesse than he had in his entire being. All of which, he noted, had been exhausted during their most recent escapade to the exalted Winter Palace.

To his surprise, however, it was not the usual scout or unwelcome visitor that paraded through his doorway, but you, a strange expression on your face as you strode toward him, a seemingly desperate ambiance to each stride.

The Inquisitor coming toward him with such a harrowing expression? Perhaps the situation was worse than he had originally thought...

"Cullen," you wheezed breathlessly, coming to a stop before his desk and taking a moment to catch your breath, "is it true?"

His brow furrowed, heart tangling at what sort of dire news his lover could have brought him. "Is what true?"

"This!" you exclaimed, pressing your finger into the cover of the book you were holding.

He craned his head, squinting, expecting the hurried scrawl of some urgent summarized report and read the title out loud. "The Randy Dowager... Demons of Desire...? What in the Maker's name --"  
And then he saw it. In a small scrawl in the corner that was obviously Sera's doing was a scribble of a Templar embracing a mage, eyes lovelorn and bodies entangled in what he could only guess was a strange tip-off to some unknown sex position.

"Dear Maker, what kind of questions could you have about -- "

"Are Circles really like this?" you asked, cutting him off with wide eyes, a certain curiosity lacing each word. "The mages and Templars -- Sera said they do the things in this book on a daily basis! She said that Templars and mages are in skirts to make it easier for 'the birds and the bees' to flit about -- I never knew! We Dalish have never had much of an interest in Circles of Magi. How could we have missed something so intriguing? What passion! What fervor!"

Cullen kneaded his forehead (after a rather hurtful action in a fashion one would now call a facepalm) and groaned inwardly. Sera was probably giggling and congratulating herself on a job well done right now, burying her face in one of her pillows as she imagined all the possible ways this could turn out. No doubt the Bull also had a role in this. He would have a word with the both of them. Later. While trying not to be teased.

He took a deep breath, trying to determine how best to diffuse the situation -- he couldn’t very well leave the Inquisitor, leader of one of the most influential organizations in Thedas, with her absurd and vastly misinformed misconceptions...could he?

That in itself would be a blasphemy against the Inquisition's name...but then again, so were so many other things that they had done since the Conclave exploded. They'd recruited the mages, ignored the cries of magical injustice, gave their allies the right to watch over themselves, had the Templars taken over by their enemies (which was not their fault, he might add), and allowed a number of strange companions to join their cause, not to mention the entire formation of the Inquisition itself. When he thought about it like that, it was no wonder why the public was still so apprehensive about their existence.

But at the same time, the Empress' life had just been saved, her empire stabilized, the support of Orlais won, people were slowly turning to them for hope, he was in dire need of a break, and the moments he could steal with the Inquisitor were few and far between.

It was funny how recent events led up to such thoughts.

His work was hardly done, but why waste such a golden opportunity? A slight diversion from the paperwork. A breath of long-awaited fresh air. A small bolster to his morale. Certainly nobody would fault them (in fact, he was sure a select few would approve) for a small distraction and a few entertained curiosities, provided everything was rectified afterward. In fact, a small part of him now felt like _thanking_ Sera and the Bull (and the rest of him knew him mad for even having the thought cross his mind).

"You seem...quite interested in this," he stated, a small smirk forming on his lips as he took the book from your hands and quickly leafed through its pages.

"Who wouldn't be? The forbidden confines of the Circle of Magi -- I can't even begin to imagine what goes on behind closed doors!"

A small laugh escaped his lips. "Always the seeker of forbidden knowledge, I see. I suppose it _would_ be hard to imagine life inside the Circle, especially if you’ve lived your entire life outside of one..." He flipped the book to its cover and read the inscriptions in a low mutter. "...'Forbidden dalliances at their finest'...'A riveting reverie of desire'...'Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five'..."

Cullen gave a slight hum, his eyebrow rising in a questioning arch at the rating system of the missive, coming to the conclusion that you must have not seen the back cover, attention too drawn by Sera's tomfoolery on the front. Sometimes he wondered how you managed to lead the Inquisition so well despite your overwhelming naivety -- not...that it was bad thing.

"Truly a wonder," he said with a chuckle, his free hand settling on the hilt of his sword before he took a moment to clear his throat, "...I told you before that I used to be part of Ferelden’s Circle. It...wasn't the best time of my life -- in fact, it was probably the worst. Demons, possession; I saw the worst of what magic could bring -- things that shattered my faith in mages. My friends were slaughtered, their minds broken and I was left to fight the torture alone. I thought I would never be able to trust mages again -- that the Harrowing and Rites of Tranquility were perhaps not as unreasonable as I first thought…

“The Circle’s catastrophe brought about many changes...but the time before it all started, there were certainly whispers of such things. Yes, if I remember correctly, there was always gossip among the Templars," he continued, a smile growing on his lips, "and no doubt also among the mages about who fancied who and where the best place to steal a moment would be.

“'Behind closed doors' they would always say -- but there were hardly any doors that stayed closed for long. I imagine the ones that did were occupied. I, myself, never had the opportunity --" He shot a quick glance in your general direction. "Nor, ah, desire to participate in such rituals. There was no one who tickled my fancy, so to speak...but perhaps if you had been one of my wards..."

His voice dropped off, his lips quivered and you swore you could see a blush rise to his cheeks ever so slightly -- though it was soon hidden when he brought his hand to his face and chastised himself inwardly. This, in turn, brought a grin to yours. You might've been naive in your pursuit of knowledge, but you knew very well what it meant when Cullen suddenly went bashfully silent. Indeed, if the strict and ever-working Commander desired it, who was to say the fun-loving Inquisitor was not of the same mind, if not more? "If I'd been one of your wards," you prodded playfully, gently pulling his hand from his face as you pressed up against him, "what would have happened, _Commander_?"

Cullen swallowed visibly, his eyes examining your face, unable to settle on any one of your features, brows knitting tighter than when the nobles took turns grabbing his bottom at the Winter Palace. “I -- ah -- couldn’t...say for certain...but perhaps you’d...ah...like to try? We _do_ have the perfect reference on hand, after all…”

And there it was: Cullen’s smug smile that Varric hypothesized would get him shivved by Leliana. How the man managed to be so ridiculously sexy while being bashful was a mystery you swore you would unravel after much experimentation. “I’d like that,” you replied in a sultry voice, reaching up to lay your hand on his which was holding the book.

His free arm responded in kind, moving to wrap around your waist and pulling you closer. “Oh, is that so? Then I suppose we’ll need the proper robes...Leliana _did_ have some extra mage robes lying around. I don’t suppose she’d mind if we borrowed one…”

“Even if she did, I don’t think she’d complain. We are making _excellent_ use of unused resources, after all.”

He laughed and wrapped both of his arms around you, slowly leaning down until his forehead touched yours. “The truth is, just earlier she left some in my care for belief that I might put them to _better_ uses. You don’t suppose our spymaster…?”

“I certainly wouldn’t put it past her,” you said with a smile, “Knowing Leliana, she knew exactly what was going to happen the moment she did.”

He laughed again, slightly nervous this time and muttered. "If it's like that, I'm afraid our little distraction was somehow planned." Beyond what he'd originally thought. "Remind me to never get on her bad side."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Cullen. Even if you did, I'd protect you," you jested. "Power of the Inquisitor and all."

"Heh. That's...very reliable. Sometimes I feel like you do a better job protecting all of us than I, you. You're an amazing woman and I feel it all the more strongly as time goes on. If there's ever... _anything_...I can do..."

You leaned into his body and placed a soft kiss on his lips, gently cupping his face in both hands and staring into his eyes. "You do more than enough, Cullen. I wouldn't dare ask for more. Not after everything you've given the Inquisition. Not after everything you've given me. I admire your drive and I love you, but sometimes you wear yourself too thin -- take on responsibilities not your own -- and it worries me."

His expression softened, a hint of sadness seeping into his eyes. "I could say the same of you. Seeing the woman I love standing on the front lines, fighting the end of the world while I stand powerless on the sidelines...you shoulder the responsibility of the entire world and pretend it doesn't matter. You don't even know how much you worry me."

You gave a crooked smile, fixing the falter in your expression so quickly it was as if it never happened. "At least we know the feeling's mutual."

"Yes, mutual...I feel so reassured,” he said somewhat uncertainly, his face crinkling into some strange mix between amusement and concern before it settled into a softened grin. “It's strange how calm I feel holding you like this. As if the world isn't facing its end head-on. You bring me a strength I have never known; give me the power to stand up to our enemies and not back down."

"A power you've had this whole time, Cullen."

"And something I had lost sight of back in Haven. But you brought it back, even when I was attempting to throw it away. Something you convinced me I still had, when I thought it lost. Ever since I met you, it's been you proving to me that I'm a better person than I thought I was. And for that, I thank you..."

His eyes locked with yours and he ran his fingers through your hair, a motion slower than usual. You could tell he was thinking back to what had happened. How you had almost sacrificed yourself for the Inquisition.

How you still do.

How he thought you were lost when you went out the Chantry doors to lure the Archdemon. How he watched the avalanche bury Haven with you still in it. How their searches for you yielded no results. How you didn't come back until long after it was over.

The agony of waiting.

The joy of finding that you were still alive mixed with the hopelessness instilled by failure.  
He was thinking about the times he was powerless to stop you, charging in against the odds because it was the only option available. He thought about how it hurt more each time to have to knowingly push you into harm's way, knowing you might never come back.

And how you managed to come back each time.

How you _would_ manage to come back every time.

It was thoughts like these that made him treasure every stolen moment more than the last, not knowing when and if another would come, but moments are only that: moments. And this one was quickly broken when he gave a quirk of his lip and uttered a small, bashful 'ah', as if he had just realized that his mind had somehow slipped away.

"Where...were we...?" he continued a bit gingerly, eyes drifting around as he stopped to clear his throat in what was no doubt an attempt to get back in control of himself.

An attempt which evidently worked like magic because the next moment, he had managed to calm his lips enough that they stopped teetering between smiling and wordless motions and instead curled into a confident, seductive grin.

Who exactly was supposed to be the mage here...?

The hand running through your hair stopped and came to cup your face, his thumb running over your skin softly. Your eyes turned up to stare at his in the way they always did when he touched your face, reviving old thoughts on how elves could have such large, enchanting eyes -- though none as enrapturing as yours. "Ah, yes," he murmured quietly, voice still a touch uneven, "Changing into the proper robes, I believe...I have the clothes upstairs, if you'd like to change into them. In the meantime, I suppose I'll familiarize myself with our _plan of action_."

He waved the book in the air matter-of-factly and you giggled. "Of course, Commander," you drawled dramatically while pushing away from him, giving him a seductive look from beneath your eyelashes, “Just let me get myself ready…”  



End file.
